


Growing Spaces

by not_talla



Category: Minecraft (Video Game)
Genre: Angst, Anyways, Fluff, One Shot, everyone is very sad, for tommy, hey besties, maybe idk, this is my first fic, wilbur just wants the pain to stop
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-04
Updated: 2021-03-04
Packaged: 2021-03-17 01:42:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,092
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29834112
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/not_talla/pseuds/not_talla
Summary: Tommys space in the afterlife is growing again. And Wilbur- well Wilbur wishes that things were different.
Comments: 2
Kudos: 42





	Growing Spaces

**Author's Note:**

> hi everyone! this is my first fic and ngl im hella nervous but i hope yall enjoy it! feel free to leave constructive criticism in the comments or message me on twitter, @TALLAP3N1S

Wilbur didn't want to notice the space opening up again. 

He wanted to believe that Tommy was safe. That when Dream was locked up, he wouldn't have to worry about him anymore (not that that would have stopped him of course, but it was reassuring in some senses). However, once Tommy visited dream for the first time, Wilbur noticed the change.

It was hard to ignore though, given he had a loud drunk as his roommate in the afterlife. Schlatt would drink himself into a stupor and start ranting about Manburg, Quackity, Fundy- things would finally go calm down as he tired himself out. “Yknow,“ the ram would say, more solemn than before, making lazy eye contact with his former rival, “y'know he has to join us someday right? You can't keep denying it, old friend.”

It was a routine at this point. Came with having unlimited alcohol in the afterlife. Wilbur would stare into the space growing for Tommy, and would not reply, break down, or shout at Schlatt to the point of tears. He knew Tommy was special. Though they were not biologically brothers, the little shit always meant a lot to him.

Even after his country was stolen.

Ever after the countless nights he spent arguing with Tommy over that goddamn button.

Even after he was wrapped up in his fathers wings, dying. He made eye contact with his brother at that point. Though it was too far away to tell, Wilbur could've sworn the teen was crying, though he was trying to hide it, wiping away the tears as fast as they came. There was some sick sort of humour in that, he thought. Tommy always said it was okay to cry, yet he always hid it from everyone around him. Tears would only remind everyone that Tommy was still a kid, and he couldn't have that. The only time Tommy really cried in front of his brother was after they'd gotten exiled. Tommy had gone out to look for food and was taking longer than expected, so Wilbur went after him, desperate to not lose his vice president. He needed him, after all, if he ever wanted to take back Manburg. 

He found Tommy, sat at the base of a tree, clutching what seemed to be a decaying flower crown. All thoughts of his lost country were gone and replaced with concern for Tommy. He never broke down like this, never. Even as a child he did all he could to be helpful to Wilbur, pushing aside his childhood to help Wilbur take care of Fundy, or plan war strategies. 

His attention was drawn to the object Tommy was clutching. Wilbur recognized it as Tubbos crown that he made for tommy. He recalled that day well, watching the boys run around their new country, Tubbo accidentally tackling Tommy too hard and making him that crown as an unneeded and silent apology. 

“TOMMY N’ TUBBO, KINGS OF THE WORLD!” they shouted, laughing so hard they fell to the ground, getting grass stains on their L’manburg uniforms. 

“Why didn't he come with us Wilbur? He’s- he was my best friend. Doesn't he care?” Fat tears were now racing down tommys cheeks, snapping Wilbur out of the memory. Sharp blue eyes stared into his warm brown ones, that were once surrounded by white were now ringed by red. 

Things were happier then.

He sat softly next to the crying child as he sobbed for his lost friend. Wilbur stared awkwardly at the group beneath him, picking at the grass by his worn shoes. He was never good with crying. When Fundy was young and started crying for his mother, Wilbur would pluck lullabies on his guitar, soft voice soothing the young fox until his tears dried up and he would wrap his tail around himself, and sleep once more.

So when he saw Tommy sobbing for his lost friend, he didn't know what to do. He sat in the presence of his brother until the boy stood up, wiped the grass stains off his pants, and made Wilbur swear to never speak of this again.

He often wishes that he could redo that day, say something, anything, so that maybe he and Tommy's relationship wouldn't have been so strained at the time of his death.

And so Wilbur watched in horror as his former ally, the one who took his nation, now took his unfinished symphony. It was a painful sight, even Schlatt refused to look at the beating.

Wilbur didn't know if he was selfish to wish death on his brother. It's not like he wanted him to die, he just wanted the pain to stop. He had watched Tommy through exile, through his final battle with Dream, and through getting trapped in a room of his greatest fears. All he wanted to do was to keep Tommy safe. And happy. All he wanted was to give Tommy the childhood he had so selfishly ripped away from him.

___

Tommy woke up in a painfully bright place. He instinctively squinted his eyes, expecting to wince from the pain of a black eye, but surprisingly it was painless. He felt… calm. Immediately suspecting what was up, he stood and started looking for-

“Tommy?”

He locked eyes with two presidents, one with arms wide open for an embrace, and one standing slightly behind the first, bottle in hand. 

Tommy ran towards Wilbur and they embraced, and Tommy was reminded of the days before the war, when Wilbur found him and raised him. Before Wilbur turned bitter. Before he was betrayed by almost everyone he loved. Brighter days.

The ram awkwardly patted his shoulder. A small gesture, but Tommy could tell there was care in it. 

“Are you-?”

Wilbur nods. “I'm so proud of you Tommy. Well done. You child.”

Tommy laughs as tears fill his eyes for the first time, and he lets them fall.

-

As two brothers embrace, a best friend is in denial, while his husband leaves flowers at a home made of dirt, mourning the friendship he could've had. 

Ones who were once the kindest on the server are now celebrating the death of a child, blinded by power.

A former knight grieves the death of a child who never knew how much she cared. 

A father figure carries on with his duties, forever unaware of how he failed his promise.

A warden is paying for his mistakes.

And the villain laughs over the corpse of his once friend, now greatest enemy, for he is always in control.

  
  
  
  
  


**Author's Note:**

> i hope you liked it :]


End file.
